


Spaces

by coppercaps



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Come as Lube, Corset Piercings, Dirty Talk, Emotional Sex, Light Praise Kink, M/M, Mild Body Worship, Needles, Play piercings, Prostate Milking, Smut, Spit As Lube, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26299603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppercaps/pseuds/coppercaps
Summary: Every now and then, when the force of their life becomes too much, Rufus and Tseng retreat to a certain space to calm their minds and find relief in each other.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Kudos: 21





	Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a Sons of Anarchy piece that never felt quite right. Then I realized that what made it feel out of character for SOA fit exactly into one of my headcanons for Tsengru. That awareness is courtesy of @TheBlackMorals with whom I had a very reflective chat about perspectives on Rufus and Tsengs relationship dynamic the other day and who also helped me with this through her feedback. Thank you so much! <3 
> 
> This piece addresses pleasure through pain and sexual actions on the BDSM spectrum through the involvement of play piercings. It’s definitely consensual, as safe as it gets and sane – well, that’s up to everyone’s own interpretation.   
> Please do not read this if any of the tags make you uncomfortable.

_ Tseng never considered himself a medic, but in all objectivity, he was one. In his classes, he had sat with the field medics that were to serve in Wutai. Went through the same hours of lectures and practise to make sure that, if bad turned worse, he’d be capable of providing at least a chance of having a colleague or he himself live to see another day. However, unlike those who had fought in Wutai, who had patched up teenagers barely old enough to be considered men while the ground beneath them shook and shrapnel sharply whistled past, no fellow in a uniform, be it built for combat or a suit, ever got to enjoy the results of his healing training.  
_ _ Still, the Turk liked to think that that knowledge might make a difference for one of his people one day.  
_ _ Tseng had no idea about how to perform complicated surgery or diagnosing illnesses, but his skills had him capable of disinfecting a through-and-through gunshot wound or giving a nasty cut a couple of stitches – the simpler stuff, that might not be much compared to the skillset of an actual medical professional, but prevented his colleagues and him of attracting too much attention by curious staff of medical facilities, should a mission turn sideways. _

_ Tseng had always known what the Turks were about, was aware of the interrogations and assassinations that were a part of the job. Still, back then, sitting in that classroom next to a man whose photo he would later see labeled as KIA on one of his screens, Tseng hadn’t consciously expected to use that very knowledge he gained, that was supposed to heal people, against them, hurt them in the worst ways possible. _

_ There was one particular moment the Turk remembered. His first interrogation, under Veld’s supervision.   
_ _ It had been obvious that the bloody way would be the most efficient with their ‘guest’. Tseng had reached for the small box of latex gloves standing in the corner of the anteroom only to be stopped by his superior’s firm hand on his shoulder. “They will tear. Use the leather gloves.”  
_ _ Leather gloves are a mandatory part of a Turk’s uniform and Tseng then understood why.   
_ _ He had entered the interrogation room with slow, deliberate steps. Hesitantly, he had adjusted the fit of the glove at his wrist before he delivered the first punch on the target, spilling blood where he had known it would be the easiest to break skin and bone. Had known where it would _ hurt.

Gently, Tseng increased the pressure on the soft, layered tissue beneath the latex barrier that separated his skin from the blonde’s until the layers gave way and allowed the sharp needle to clear the passage for the small metal ring that he then promptly pushed through the newly created opening.  
He let his gaze wander to Rufus’ face and allowed himself a moment to take in his reactions. 

Rufus’ eyes were closed, breath deep and even, pushing through the stinging pain he experienced. Each ring erased another small crease of worry from his face, the dull, burning pain in his back gently leading him away from troubling thoughts to lower him into the headspace both of them sought out.   
It wasn’t long until Tseng fell into a rhythm, his mind too letting go of everything that didn’t concern their current actions or those they had planned for the next hours. Ring after ring was added to pliant skin, arranged to frame the length of his spine. Tseng’s world narrowed down to his handiwork and the soft, minuscule reactions of his lover under his hands. The way the tension in his muscles vanished, the nervous twitches in his fingers and behind his eyelids ceased in the dimmed light, the soft sound of his breathing becoming deep and regular, free of any strain.

Eventually, twenty-two small, metal rings adorned the man’s back, following its elegant curves as two lines reached from beneath his shoulder blades to the middle of his lower back.  
Reaching for a sheet of soft gauze, Tseng gently dabbed away a few drops of blood that had pooled like tiny pearls at the base of some of the rings before cleaning the small punctures one final time with saline. Once certain that the wounds he had inflicted on the other were well taken care of, he turned off the small bedside lamp that had spent his working light and removed the gloves from his hands. Taking a deep breath in, Tseng rose from the small stool he had previously occupied to sit next to the blonde on the bed, allowing himself a moment to glide the fingertips of his right hand along his unmarred spine. His hand lingered in the middle of the last duo of rings as he basked in the heat that pooled in the pliant body beneath. 

It was intoxicating. A comfortable haze fogged his thoughts as the realisation of their actions settled in his mind. That Rufus Shinra, Vice President of the company that had the future and well-being of almost all life in its grasp, who would one day be the mightiest man on Gaia, put all of his faith in his hands, allowed him and him only to mark his body, tiny punctures that would eventually scar and bear proof of their trust and the claim Rufus Shinra granted Tseng to lay.

Tseng felt his own heart beating slow and steadily in his chest. He allowed himself to admire the beautiful, naked body before him until his breathing fell into a rhythm that matched Rufus’. Only then did he raise to remove his own clothes. With each layer of leather and fabric being removed from him, each inch of skin revealed, he felt the heat of his body being replaced with a different kind of warmth. The clothes were neatly folded and arranged before Tseng stepped away from his lover for one last time this night to escort the pile of clothing out of the room, placing it on a chest in the hallway before he closed the door behind himself.

Standing by the door, he allowed his consciousness to bask in the atmosphere of the space. Dark brown eyes roamed over the slowly flickering shadows created by a conglomeration of differently shaped, scented candles, their fire being the only light source in what, by day, appeared as an unremarkable guest bedroom, giving away nothing of the significance it held to its owners.

When they first explored this practice, having come across it by nothing but accident, they had realised the potential it bore early on. However, remaining surrounded by objects and memories of the situations they wanted to distance themselves from prevented them from actually letting go of these. It had been Rufus’ idea to take a weekend off to rearrange the apartment themselves and set up this space. The one room farthest away from everything else, where no reactor lights illuminated the edges of closed blinds and that had never witnessed the actions they sought to escape from. Rufus made sure that the subtle scent of lavender would remain by day as well, creating a retreat to experience a small relief even when they didn’t occupy it with the activity of that moment.

“Tseng.”  
The whisper of his name was the last thing he had needed to settle in this space. Stepping to the bed in the middle of the room, the man reached for a long, silken fabric stripe that rested on top of the nightstand. It never ceased to amaze him how threading the fabric through the rings in Rufus’ back happened almost automatically, his hands on autopilot, yet it never felt like routine and always ignited the same spark of excitement as when they had done this the very first time.   
Once threaded through its loops, Tseng tied the purple-colored fabric endings to a neat ribbon.  
He concentrated his eyes on the way his lover’s lips parted to release a soft gasp as he tightened the knot. Rufus had once said that the way Tseng tied the corset told him of his mindset. The more pressure he applied to the bindings, the more wound up he was, Rufus explained, so Tseng tried to let his body decide on its own how tight it wanted to tie the ribbon.   
But never too tight. Never too much to tear the delicate body he was entrusted with. 

Once done, Tseng lowered his gaze to check the tension of the fabric against the metal rings. The pull was strong enough to tug the skin slightly where the metal rings entered but not enough to risk tearing, even under movement. Satisfied with his work, Tseng softly tapped his fingers twice beneath the ribbon to let Rufus know. 

Their next movements were well-practiced; Rufus rose in the middle of the bed, sitting on his calves, making space to have Tseng kneel behind him as Tseng wrapped his arms around Rufus in a tight embrace, feeling the dull pressure of the ungiving rings against his naked chest and stomach. Gasping once more at the soft pull of the piercings, Rufus leaned back, resting his head against the brunette’s shoulder to bury his nose in the spill of silken black hair as he removed its restricting tie and tossed it away. Meanwhile, Tseng splayed his hands where they met Rufus’ ribs as another spark of excitement wandered through Tseng’s body, cock twitching alive against the form before him. Rufus’ hands came up to Tseng’s where they were trapped in the embrace, pressed against his body, and he gently rubbed small circles on the back of the other’s hands as he awaited his next move. 

They realised after a couple of attempts that a role reversal from their usual positions wasn’t what got them the peace of mind they sought in this. Although he did enjoy Rufus taking over the reins sometimes, in this state, it made Tseng rather restless and uneasy, too much of a reminder of their positions outside of their shared bedroom. Tseng was glad to find out that Rufus felt similar and preferred to remain in more of a reactive role than stepping up to set the tone.   
With more than just words, Tseng had thanked Rufus for his willingness to surrender to him as the Turk sought to soothe his nerves, frayed by the atrocities his job demanded him to commit, by inflicting pleasure in the same manners that otherwise lit fear alight in the people who experienced them.  
Wordlessly, Rufus always accepts Tseng’s gratitude by receiving the pain-pleasure and finding his own salvation in it, serenity in the knowledge that there was nothing else for Rufus to do besides being who he was and what he was given, free to react and act and just be without the restraints of responsibility.

Seeking out the reflection of steel-blue eyes in the large mirror against the wall before them, Tseng lightly caressed Rufus’ slender fingers until their gazes met. Only then did he raise his hand to the blonde’s lips in a wordless demand for him to suck. The demand was met with eager enthusiasm, soft lips parting to envelop two fingers in wet heat while a pair of hands reached back to touch, feel, the body of the man manipulating him from behind. Rufus let his tongue play against the soft pads for a bit, taking in the leftover chemical taste of latex mingling with the residual aroma of musky leather, noting that Tseng had been wearing the gloves Rufus had once gifted him that day, the softness in the taste disclosing the high quality of the material.

Nosing along the elegant curve of his lover’s neck, the brunette brought his lips close to the shell of Rufus’ ear, a whispered “Accept me” the only warning before he carefully thrust his fingers down the pierced man’s throat.  
Rufus gagged a little, struggling shortly to follow the words which he knew to be as much a plea as it was an order, all while holding the eye contact through the mirror. Tears glazed over his eyes, gathering at the corners as a third finger snug past parted teeth, bunching under the other two. Rufus forced his jaw slack, head slightly falling back, suppressing all intruding thoughts to concentrate on breathing through his nose as Tseng gently moved within the twitching passage, deliberately drawing more saliva from it.  
Too occupied with the manipulation of his mouth, Rufus didn’t notice the hand sneaking to his erection until a firm grip took hold. The moan that erupted from his chest opened his throat, allowing the fingers to slide a fraction of an inch deeper until his chin hit the soft slope between Tseng’s index finger and thumb. 

In Rufus’ mind, the sound of deep breaths next to his ear mingled with the feeling of rough strokes on his flesh. He felt more than saw Tseng’s heated gaze on him as he decided to caress the little bulge where Rufus’ throat accommodated the intruding fingers with his thumb and Rufus’ back arched, the obscenity of the gesture along with the added sensation of the metal in his back shifting forcing him to close his eyes in sensory overload.   
Pristine teeth lightly grazed along scarred knuckles as Tseng withdrew his fingers from Rufus’ mouth to slide between their bodies, the hand around his cock releasing to take hold on one slender hip, gentle pressure guiding Rufus to turn around so they could face each other. 

The intrusion of his body by two fingers, slick with a heavy coat of thick saliva, was accompanied by a heated kiss, lightly chapped lips swallowing the groan. Rufus closed his eyes, riding the shallow wave of pleasure sparked by the light burn as his entrance stretched to accept Tseng’s fingers.   
“More”, he mumbled against Tseng’s lips, a request to the both of them alike.   
More fingers. More pleasure. More pain. Just  _ more _ .

Tseng obliged, adding the third finger as he pushed away the intruding thoughts of caution by forcing his tongue past plush lips to mingle with his lover’s. He would have hesitated, were the circumstances different. Would have insisted on them taking more time, add proper lube, make sure Rufus was prepared and ready. But in that very moment, things weren’t about being prepared.   
The action was about giving in to an urge, feeling, and exploring and experiencing, things Rufus was usually denied, impulses locked away by strong chains of responsibilities and obligations, and an image that needed to be kept up.   
It was about Tseng servicing Rufus in that way, providing him the opportunity to just  _ be himself _ through providing the safety to deal with whatever that may bring along, be it the pleasure of satisfaction or the pain of a lesson learned. 

Arms shot up to instinctively wrap around the long-haired man’s neck as Rufus keened in the open-mouthed kiss. Cool satin pressed against heated, sweat-slick skin as it was pulled taut and Rufus whimpered, tongue nudging weakly against Tseng’s, the tears in the corner of his eyes finally spilling through clenched eyelids.  
Noticing the wet drops against his cheek, Tseng broke the kiss to lean into Rufus’ embrace, chin resting on his shoulder as his free hand snuck between their bodies to lazily pull at the blonde’s flushed cock. Tseng’s gaze came to rest in the mirror, watching the reflection of his still fingers’ second knuckles disappearing within Rufus’ stretched muscle, marveling at the delicate mingle of glossy silver metal, shiny purple satin, and glistening skin, red flush a stark contrast against pale white.   
Shifting his hips, Tseng nudged his own erection against his lover’s, tips brushing against each other. He angled himself just so that his length would move along the leaking head that remained untouched by his stroking hand, precum smudging the heated skin in sticky streaks. 

“I wish you could see yourself”, Tseng whispered, voice deep and thick with lust, “How beautifully you stretch out before me.”  
Rufus’ breath hitched on a particular firm stroke that was accompanied by a shift of the fingers inside him.  
“Will you be good and cum for me?”, the dark-haired man questioned, hinting at his intentions with a twitch of his fingertips against the spot that promised to wipe all coherent thoughts from Rufus’ mind.   
Nodding, Rufus turned to hide against the nape of Tseng’s neck, enjoying the coolness of his hair against his flushed face. 

The first push hit him like a punch in the gut, warm, tight pleasure gripping his loins as Tseng began to press against the hidden gland. He fell in a demanding rhythm quickly, fingertips lazily circling the spot inside, fist insistently tugging at his cock, and Rufus couldn’t help but hold on to Tseng for dear life as gasps and moans spilled past his still swollen lips, hips riding down on the fingers inside, up into the fist before him.  
“Shhh”, Tseng soothed, the calmness in the gesture disagreeing with the pickup of pace of his hands, “Just feel me, Rufus. Feel me around you, inside of you. It’s so good, isn’t it? ”

Not unlike a medic, a Turk had to possess extensive knowledge of body, psyche and their function. But instead of healing what was wrong, it was a Turks purpose to manipulate, irritate and bend the right spots, coax the mind with the right words, so it would break and disclose its secrets.  
When Rufus’ body finally broke, the secrets it revealed were neither of corporate nor political importance, yet invaluable all the same, disclosing the true shape of a person only Tseng was privy to knowing, vulnerable in the most primal way. 

Rufus cried out as his hole clenched down around Tseng’s fingers, spasming, his cry muffled against the shoulder in front of him as rope after rope of cum spilled from his cock. Every single muscle in his body shuddered and Tseng gladly received each tremor, a solid wall against Rufus’ chest, his bindings a comforting tug against his back, a hearing ear as the blonde in his arms uttered between moans and loud breaths “Fuck me, please, I want you.”

Gathering the spilled seed with one hand and removing his other, Tseng rounded Rufus once he was confident the other wouldn’t collapse. It would have been easier to just lay him down on the soft mattress, allow him to rest still quaking muscles and cool his overheated skin against the sheets, but that would negate one aspect of their space they agreed upon. In these moments, they were equals. Not a boss and his subordinate, not a top and his bottom, but two lovers at eye level, figuratively and literally. 

Spreading the cum along his shaft and tip, Tseng nudged the blunt head of his arousal against Rufus’ entrance, exerting careful pressure but not quite breaching.  
“I want you too, Rufus Shinra.”

If asked, Rufus wouldn’t be able to tell whether his helpless cry came from the sensation of Tseng’s barely slicked cock entering his body or the words that accompanied the intrusion, the declaration of love and acceptance clawing at his being so deeply that it bordered on physical pain.  
The sound mingled with Tseng’s own shout of pleasure, a deep groan of lust as the almost painfully tight heat enveloped him, Rufus’ body struggling to accommodate his girth. Tseng’s hands flew to Rufus’ hips, gripping him tightly as he immediately started to thrust into him, hips snapping forward, the pace brutal as he sought more pleasure. In between it all, Tseng found it in himself to tenderly reach up and splay his hand against Rufus’ chest to support him.  
“You feel so good. Taking me so well”, he moaned, lips close to his ear. 

Steel-blue eyes opened, gazes catching in the mirror’s reflection, and Rufus breathed, “You hurt me so good, Tseng. Give me everything.”

Usually, Tseng would have been mildly embarrassed. But then and there, in this little space Rufus and he had carved for themselves, the confirmation that this was ok, that he was accepted and loved not just albeit but because of what he inflicted upon his surroundings was sending him over the edge, having him come hard and spill into the fluttering, accepting body in his embrace. 

Rufus was the one to guide them on their sides, position them on the bed to rest without breaking the intimate connection. Ignoring his own cock, half-hard with newly lit arousal, he draped a blanket over the both of them, the gesture a bridge to the last part of their ritual in which they would bask in the afterglow before step by step returning to their reality, together.

Whenever the force of their lives became too heavy for Rufus and Tseng to bear, they retreaded to this space where they could let themselves fall. Where Tseng of the Turks was able to spark pleasure with the pain he inflicted upon a person and, sometimes, himself. Where Rufus Shinra was capable of bearing some of that pain and escaping the weight of responsibility that threatened to crush him at times when he was reminded that his actions did not only decide the fate of millions of faceless people, but his own lovers’ too.  
During these few hours, they were equals, capable of caring for the other as they knew they were cared for. 


End file.
